Maze
Somewhere
through this maze
is light,
a place
where
the madness ends
and there are meadows,
and flowers,
and you
in your glorious
simplicity
can shine.
About this poem.
Some days I believe it. Some days I don’t.
The picture was shot through a piece of sculpture in Rutland, VT.
Tom

Some days are diamonds, some days are stones. I hear you.